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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347257">Somniphobia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mslo/pseuds/Mslo'>Mslo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety bros, Atsumu is exhausted and sad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Non-licensed massage therapist Sakusa Kiyoomi, Panic Attacks, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, Sakusa Kiyoomi is awkward, light humor, no beta we die like daichi, sleep-anxious Miya Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mslo/pseuds/Mslo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who gets scared of falling asleep? Atsumu wanted to shout at the universe, but he knew those cold, distant stars held no answers for him. So instead, Atsumu kept talking. He knew his eyes were too wide and probably looked a bit wild, but he was careening now—filled with shame and embarrassment and anger and confusion. The words he had never spoken to anybody before came out now like a river, and Sakusa drank them all.”</p><p>In which Atsumu has anxiety, but luckily for him, Sakusa also has anxiety.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Somniphobia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Massive TW/CW here for anxiety and panic attacks.<br/>There is only one which is explicitly written out (from “At the admission...” to “They stood in silence...”), but it is a major theme throughout the entire fic so, beware and be careful :)</p><p>Idk, there’s just something about life-long anxiety bro Sakusa comforting recently-diagnosed anxiety bro Atsumu that makes me ~soft~ okay.<br/>I love them, and that is all.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Atsumu absolutely had to pinpoint when the anxiety started, he wasn’t sure he actually could. He knew it creeped into his life at some point after he graduated high school—after Osamu left, Atsumu was scouted, and his lazy grins and loud humor began to mask a slowly simmering insecurity that he didn’t know what to do with. Like many insidious things, Atsumu was unaware of the anxiety completely until the black ooze blocked his throat and burned his eyes and lungs like tar.</p><p>That first panic attack had been violent. It left Atsumu on his hands and knees in the middle of the court during a practice match somewhere during his second year with the MSBY Black Jackals. Atsumu’s memory of the event was hazy at best, but he remembered the way he heaved for a breath that wouldn’t come and how his heart hammered so hard and so painfully, he thought for sure he was dying. He remembered the tears on his cheeks and the way the entire team stopped and tried to talk to him even though his mind was so far away he couldn’t even hear their voices. Most of all though, it was just kind of embarrassing and an event that still made Atsumu’s cheeks and ears color red whenever he thought about it too long, even though it had been over two years since then.</p><p>After the incident, Coach Foster and Meian helped walk Atsumu into Foster’s office where he set Atsumu an appointment with a therapist associated with the league.</p><p>“We can’t lose our best setter to something like that in the middle of an official game,” Meian responded gruffly when Atsumu began to protest the minute Foster hung up the phone. “We were lucky today was just practice.”</p><p>And that had sealed Atsumu’s fate. He was forced to attend eight mandatory sessions with the therapist, which is why Atsumu found himself in a cozy, sun-lit office almost every Thursday afternoon for the next two months. Outwardly, Atsumu complained as much and as loudly as possible. He complained to Osamu, at least until his idiot twin stopped answering his phone calls or responding to his texts if they had anything to do about the mandatory sessions. He complained to every member of the team, both individually and as a whole, especially when they all walked on eggshells around him for weeks after the Incident—as if one wrong word or glance would send Atsumu careening once more towards that dangerous ledge.</p><p>For two months, Atsumu complained about it to the poor girl at the smoothie shop making his protein shake, to the random guy at the bar after Atsumu maybe had a little too much to drink, to his mom, to his neighbor’s dog, to the stray cat that walked home with him from practice one night as Atsumu munched on a store-bought onigiri that wasn’t anywhere near as good as fresh ones from Samu.</p><p>Inwardly though, Atsumu had never looked forward to Thursday afternoons this much in his entire life. The therapist was kind and her office always smelled like a comforting mix of jasmine tea and lavender. Her couch was soft and had big throw pillows that Atsumu often held like shield while he picked at loose threads and rambled about the inner workings of his psyche. It was almost…nice, though he would never admit that to anyone and was a secret he would gladly take to his grave.</p><p>The incessant complaining stopped when the two months and eight sessions were over, and Atsumu never mentioned his therapist or the sessions or anything about it ever again. On court, Miya Atsumu—cocky bastard and asshole extraordinaire—was back with all his lazy grins, lewd jokes, and absolutely no more panic attacks. The team was ecstatic, and that’s all that really mattered.</p><p>But, truth was, Atsumu still had panic attacks. They sometimes happened in abandoned corners of the locker room or gym after a particularly hard practice or disappointing game. They sometimes happened at night when Atsumu was all alone in his apartment and was drowning in the loneliness of being away from family and practically friendless. They sometimes happened for absolutely no reason at all in the most mundane of places like the international snack section at the store. But two months of therapy did manage to pay off. The panic attacks were nothing as violent as Atsumu’s first and as the months stretched further and further away from those soothing Thursday afternoons, the frequency of the panic attacks themselves seemed to fade like memory.</p><p>That didn’t stop Atsumu from having bad days where he had to add an extra mile or two to his daily run or stay an extra hour after practice to burn off the anxious energy clogging his throat and making it feel like he had cotton in his ears. It didn’t stop Atsumu from occasionally having to excuse himself from a victory party and go home early because his hands were shaking so bad that any attempt to drink would just result in him spilling down his shirt.</p><p>And apparently, all the coping mechanisms he learned and perfected over the last 2 years weren’t quite enough to stop the crashing new development of sleep anxiety that either left Atsumu violently careening towards consciousness from a nocturnal panic attack or left him too frayed and on-edge to even attempt sleep at all.</p><p>Atsumu knew he should probably talk to Coach Foster and start seeing that therapist again, but the season was ramping up and Atsumu didn’t have the time for two more months of mandatory therapy—and he doubted he would have the energy for it too. Atsumu might also have managed to convince himself it wasn’t really that big of a deal. It truly wasn’t anything to sweat over. It could almost definitely wait until after the season was over.</p><p>Atsumu would be fine…he <em>would </em>be. He was sure.</p><p>But all that certainty Atsumu swore he felt in his bones hadn’t quite translated up to his brain yet, which is why he currently found himself in nothing but his slippers, boxers, and plush hotel bathrobe outside on the balcony at 2am although it was the beginning of January and winter was still fully present. From ten stories up, the view of Tokyo was decent and the wind was just bitter enough to be a distraction from the way Atsumu’s fingers drummed and jumped against the cold metal railing and the thoughts that wouldn’t let him rest.</p><p>He really should be sleeping. Atsumu <em>knew </em>he should be sleeping. There was a grueling day of practice matches behind him and a new day of an official match against the Adlers coming with the sunrise in just a few hours. He debated whether or not to go for a run. It’s what he normally would do if he was in Osaka, but Tokyo was unfamiliar and Atsumu didn’t want to end up lost in the city in the middle of the night and risk the possibility of getting mugged. That, and the thought of Atsumu accidentally waking Sakusa up, who was fast asleep just six feet away, scared him more than getting mugged in an unfamiliar city.</p><p>Atsumu was almost positive he and Sakusa were friends, maybe? Atsumu was still the only person on the team that Sakusa freely touched—a fact that brought plenty of complaints from Bokuto and Hinata, and earned Atsumu long, sideways, <em>knowing</em> glances from Inunaki whenever he was the third-to-last out and left Atsumu and Sakusa alone in the locker room.</p><p>The two of them had also started getting food together at least three times a week after practice and hung out occasionally to watch a movie or a match. The pair also walked to practice together almost every morning. Sakusa stopped pretending to not find Atsumu’s stupidest jokes at least a little funny, and no longer scowled at Atsumu’s fox-like grin and frequent use of ‘Omi-omi.’</p><p>There were other things too with Sakusa that swam in the soup of Atsumu’s already crowded mind and anxious mental drifting. There was the way that Sakusa stayed closer than normal when Atsumu was having a particularly hard day and viciously snapped at anything that moved. There was the way Sakusa wordlessly joined in on Atsumu’s extra serve practices when he was a bundle of nothing but nerves and jittery motion. There was the way that their hands brushed or shoulders bumped more and more these days while the pair walked side by side. It made Atsumu’s heart pound in a way that didn’t have anything to do with physical exertion or the familiar thrum of anxiety.</p><p>Regardless of all of that though, Atsumu definitely didn’t think that friendly pleasantries or teenage-level pining would stop Sakusa from outright murdering him for waking him up at 2am the night before an official match.</p><p>And so Atsumu was stuck on the balcony—cold, exhausted, and maybe beginning to slightly spiral. He <em>knew </em>he should just go back inside and lay down, but then he would be subjecting himself to sitting wide awake in bed unable to make out his own jumbled thoughts or solve why his heart was pounding so heavily in his chest. Or, worse yet, he could risk actually falling asleep.</p><p>It was an odd thing to be scared of falling asleep.</p><p>The sudden <em>schlick</em> of the balcony door opening behind Atsumu almost startled the man enough to banish all of those fears though. He was briefly grateful that he hadn’t been holding his phone or else it would be enjoying a long 100 foot free-fall to the concrete below, but the feeling fled as Atsumu turned to see Sakusa standing in the doorway, glowering. The affect of the glower was slightly undercut, however, by the fact that Sakusa was wrapped like a burrito from head to slipper in his favorite fuzzy gold blanket that Hinata had given him for the team’s Secret Santa gift exchange (evidence that Sakusa maybe did actually like the rest of the team).</p><p>“Mornin’, Omi-kun,” Atsumu attempted to drawl cheerily, but his voice was a tad too hoarse, his smile definitely too forced, and the bags under his eyes far too heavy—three things that Sakusa 100% picked up on with ease.</p><p>“What the fuck are you doing, Miya?” Sakusa’s glower shifted into a full blown glare and Atsumu had to resist the urge to try and hide himself in his bathrobe as Sakusa continued in a voice that clearly betrayed his frustration, but yet was still far too soft for the death-glare Atsumu was recieving. “Are you trying to get sick? I know you’re an idiot, but this is almost too stupid even for you.”</p><p>It was in this moment with Sakusa’s gaze heavy on him, that Atsumu’s body chose violence and committed full treason against his brain: Atsumu’s chin wobbled in a sad little way and hot tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. It was pathetic, really. It was bad enough that Atsumu was having a bad night, but to be having one of his little “episodes” with Sakusa <em>right there </em>was almost as embarrassing as his very first panic attack, and infinitely more mortifying.</p><p>Sure, Atsumu and Sakusa were…probably friends and, okay, maybe there were days where Atsumu definitely wished they were something more than friends and Sakusa almost positively seemed to reciprocate, but that didn’t necessarily mean that in this exact moment Sakusa wouldn’t just turn his nose up at Atsumu like he did with particularly disgusting things and turn and leave and maybe try and switch rooms and never talk to—</p><p>“Has it been bad all day?” Sakusa hadn’t asked the question very loudly, but the glare and frustrated tone were suddenly gone and that alone was enough to throw Atsumu off-guard and out of the spiral he didn’t even realize he was falling into. It only took a moment longer for Atsumu to dumbly realize that Sakusa had moved away from the door and was now standing by his side, arms propped against the balcony railing and facing out towards the city. Sakusa was staring at Atsumu instead of enjoying the view though. His usually cold, onyx-eyes seemed almost…warm and his eyebrows were raised—once more waiting for Atsumu to answer his question.</p><p>Atsumu simply sighed and shrugged as he turned to mirror Sakusa, his fingers tapping out an unsteady rhythm against the metal railing once again.</p><p>“You can…talk to me, you know. About all of this. If anybody else on the team understands anxiety well, it’s probably me, though I know it isn’t the same as yours.” Sakusa shifted to bump his shoulder into Atsumu’s in a friendly way that was almost at odds with the awkward words that fell from his mouth. It was dark on the balcony, but there seemed to be a darker tint to Sakusa’s cheeks as well, which Atsumu wanted to attribute to the statement rather than the brisk wind buffeting the pair on all sides.</p><p>Seeing Sakusa like this always felt like a revelation to Atsumu. This Sakusa was so different than the cold, sometimes prickly, hopelessly stoic man that Atsumu found on the court and around the team. This Sakusa was somebody that only Atsumu (and probably Motoya) was privy to. It made him feel soft in an embarrassingly mushy type of way, though if anybody tried to force Atsumu to admit it, there was no way in hell he would.</p><p>But sometimes actions speak louder than words, and the way Atsumu leaned into Sakusa’s shoulder and stayed there—his body once again playing traitor to his brain—was enough to prove that. Atsumu was grossly relieved when Sakusa didn’t pull away, a fact that probably would make him cringe later, but right now Sakusa’s warmth was a lifeline.</p><p>“How d’ya know I’m anxious right now, Omi-omi? I could just be enjoyin’ the view,” he finally sighed. Sakusa, for his part, only responded with a completely flat glare that left Atsumu grimacing with the knowledge that Sakusa wasn’t going to let him off that easy. It was almost 3am after all, and Sakusa had found Atsumu outside, half-naked and half-frozen. There really was no other explanation, especially since Atsumu hadn’t gone out with the team tonight and was perfectly sober. Besides, Sakusa wouldn’t be standing out here in the cold with him unless he truly wanted to hear Atsumu talk, but the words were lodged and stuck in his throat as if he was being strangled by a thorn-covered vine.</p><p>In the end, two simple facts about the duo won out: first, Sakusa is a surprisingly patient man when he wants something and second, Atsumu is absolutely horrid at dealing with long silences…or well, silences of any sort.</p><p>“Nah, I actually wasn’t all that anxious today.” Atsumu finally conceded as the silence stretched longer and Sakusa’s flat eyes didn’t move away from Atsumu’s face. “I have anxious moments, ya know, that’s normal an’ all for me, but it’s actually been a long time since I was in this kinda state…at least during the day.” For a split-second, Atsumu wondered if he should actually share that final bit of information, but the words were leaving his mouth before his brain caught up. He could feel Sakusa’s eyes still boring into him, to which Atsumu responded by staring even harder at the ground so far below.</p><p>“Do you often get this anxious during…not the day?” Sakusa’s voice was warm and low, which somehow made his awkward phrasing that much more endearing. Atsumu glanced over and was surprised by how close Sakusa’s face was to his own and how soft those black eyes looked. In the cold, their breath condensed in a single white cloud between them. Atsumu felt the thorns around his throat slowly start to dissipate.</p><p>At some point, the blanket had slipped off of Sakusa’s head and was now pooled at the back of his neck, revealing dark curls and those two stupidly perfect moles. What Atsumu wouldn’t give to reach out and touch it all. Was Omi’s hair as soft and skin as smooth as it looked?</p><p><em>Shit. </em>Atsumu hoped that the dark was enough to cover the heat rising on his face as he broke eye contact and quickly stared down at his hands as if they held all the answers to the universe.</p><p>“‘t’s only been happenin’ for a few months,” Atsumu finally managed to get out with a light cough that he hoped was enough to cover how the words had actually come out half-choked. He could feel the tips of his ears burning now too, but the thorns restricting his words were finally gone. The heat in his cheeks and the press of Sakusa’s shoulder and hip against his own was apparently all the encouragement that Atsumu needed to for the words to come easy now.</p><p>Osamu always did make fun of how much Atsumu talked when he was embarrassed or nervous.</p><p>“It doesn’t happen every night, but I started gettin’ these nightmares where I’m chasin’ after Samu and he doesn’t know who I am, or sometimes he does know who I am but, he’s always three steps ahead of me and laughin’ that I can’t catch up.” Atsumu paused and swallowed hard, suddenly caught by a sudden wave of complete self-loathing. He was the top setter in Japan (Sorry Kageyama, but it was true no matter what) and yet he was getting sidelined by something as stupid as dreams about his brother. “Or, sometimes I dream that I’m in the middle of a game an’ the crowd is goin’ wild ‘cause it’s such an intense rally, but as I go to set the ball, nobody is there anymore. The stands are empty, the teams are gone, an’ I’m completely alone.”</p><p>Atsumu dared to look at Sakusa again and immediately regretted it as soon as he felt his chin shake and a hot tear slide down his very cold cheek. “It seems kinda stupid,” Atsumu exhaled shakily, eyes focused on the top of Sakusa’s right ear. If he tried to meet his full stare, Atsumu knew he would lose it, and having a full ugly cry with snot and all in front of Sakusa was a horrifying thought. “But, the only constants I’ve ever had are Samu and volleyball. I wake up from these nightmares with this heavy, sick, empty feelin’ in my stomach an’ my chest hurts so bad it feels like my heart has just shriveled up an’ died, ya know, and it leaves me feelin’ so numb and <em>sad </em>and I fuckin’ hate it.” Atsumu stopped there and sucked in a few more wobbling breaths in an attempt to stop any more renegade tears from falling down his face, though it really wasn’t working.</p><p>The cold fingers pressing into his cheekbones definitely almost did the trick though.</p><p>At Sakusa’s unexpected touch, Atsumu was pretty sure his entire brain forcibly shut down and then restarted. The dial-tone of it rebooting was probably loud enough to be heard all the way back in Osaka. Sakusa’s fingers were calloused but gentle as they ghosted over the planes of Atsumu’s face in a soothing motion that suddenly reminded him of his mother…which in turn only made those blasted tears come faster.</p><p>“Have you talked to Osamu about it?” At first, all Atsumu could do was slightly shake his head against the fingers that had settled on his cheeks, with thumbs that absently swiped whenever a tear fell.</p><p>“Not really. He’s either in or the subject of almost all these nightmares and I just don’t wanna bother him with it. I know he’d stress and he just…he has a lot of good things goin’ for him right now. I don’t wanna ruin anything or make ‘im worry.”</p><p>Sakusa simply hummed and nodded slightly in response—fingers still working against Atsumu’s face. They stayed like that for a moment, Atsumu silently drinking Sakusa’s touch and hoping that maybe it would be enough to stave off his anxieties for the rest of the night.</p><p>“Did you have a nightmare tonight? Is that why you’re out here?” Sakusa was the one to finally break the silence.</p><p>“Nah, that’s not why I’m out here…not completely anyways.” Atsumu rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw a couple of times. In a way, all of this just felt ridiculous and it annoyed him. Atsumu, unfortunately, had never been a patient person, least of all with himself. <em>Who gets scared of falling asleep? </em>Atsumu wanted to shout at the universe, but he knew those cold, distant stars held no answers for him. So instead, Atsumu kept talking.</p><p>“I guess I kinda got anxious about falling asleep ‘cause what if I have one’a these nightmares. But I could usually get over it a bit by drinkin’ some tea an’ takin’ some melatonin and I would be fine.” Atsumu was staring fully into Omi’s face now, their bodies angled so Atsumu was practically pressed against his chest. His heart was racing erratically and he knew his face was growing warm under Sakusa’s cool touch. God this was just so pathetic and embarrassing.</p><p>Atsumu wasn’t sure when he grabbed edge of Sakusa’s blanket, but he was holding onto it for dear life. Atsumu felt like the only things holding him to earth in this exact moment were his hands in the golden polyester and Omi’s hands on his face. He knew his eyes were too wide and probably looked a bit wild, but he was careening now—filled with shame and embarrassment and anger and confusion. The words he had never spoken to anybody before came out now like a river, and Sakusa drank them all.</p><p>“I’d only have a nightmare once or twice a week, but after a month, I stopped havin ‘em that frequently. But then I started getting’ these panic attacks <em>while I was sleepin’</em> and I’d wake up in blind terror an’ not know what was goin’ on or where I was an’ that was even worse.” Atsumu wanted to look down again, to hide, to get as far away from these stupid words he couldn’t stop saying but Sakusa continued to hold him in place with gentle eyes and gentler hands.</p><p>“I get…I get <em>scared </em>ta fall asleep now. I get anxious at the thought of gettin ready for bed an’ fallin’ asleep, ‘cause what if I have a nightmare or a panic attack. So then I just end up lying awake all night, anxious, an’ that just causes me to be anxious about other things and spiral an’—” Atsumu waved his hand lazily, gesturing to the entire absurd scene currently taking place on the balcony. He was staring pointedly at Sakusa’s moles because he couldn’t bring himself to look any lower into the man’s eyes—to see any judgement that might be there. “I’m just so tired, an’ I’m scared of fallin asleep.”</p><p>At the admission, Atsumu began crying in earnest. He was so exhausted physically and mentally that there really wasn’t much left for his body to do but be wracked by heaving sobs. Atsumu was distantly aware of how his breathing was becoming faster and each breath shorter, how every noise was suddenly lost to the ringing in his ears, how he even stopped feeling the cold wind on his exposed skin.</p><p>How embarrassing to be scared of sleeping. How mortifying to be crumpling like this in front of Sakusa.</p><p>However, through floating awareness and tear-blind eyes, Atsumu watched as Omi—his picky-bitch, mysophobic spiker—<em>willingly </em>shrugged his favorite blanket to the ground so that he was free to rub calming circles into Atsumu’s back unimpeded. His thumb mimicked the soothing motion on Atsumu’s cheekbone while the setter could only stare widely into soft black eyes and suffocate on nothing but fear.</p><p>It took what felt like an eternity of stilted breaths for Atsumu to realize that his forehead was pressed into Sakusa’s, and a handful more for him to realize that the man was talking to him.</p><p><em>It’s okay Atsumu. Just keep looking at me. </em>The words sounded like they were coming through water, and they didn’t really make sense.</p><p><em>I just want you to try and focus on my voice right now. It’s okay, you can do it. </em>That made slightly more sense in Atsumu’s swimming brain and he bumped his head forward against Sakusa’s in a rather pathetic mockery of a nod.</p><p><em>Everything’s okay. We’re at the hotel and you’re safe. </em>Atsumu managed another nod, this one less jerky than the last.</p><p>His chest felt like it was on fire and he could feel his pulse in every skin cell and hair follicle, but he managed to gasp in one deep breath, then a half-hitched one.</p><p>“It’s alright. It’s okay Atsu. Just breathe with me right now. You can do it. In and out, just like that.” Atsumu’s ears no longer felt like they were plugged as he managed a ragged, but steady breath, and then another and another until he found a more steady rhythm.</p><p>As his breathing slowed and evened out, Atsumu blinked slowly, clearing away bleary tears and was met with the full force of Sakusa’s gaze. There was a fire of concern blazing in the dark depths—one that almost made Atsumu lose his breath all over again, but for a very different reason.</p><p>“There you are,” Sakusa whispered softly, pulling his arm away from Atsumu’s back so he could rest both hands on Atsumu’s cheeks once more. They stood in silence for another moment—foreheads together as Atsumu closed his eyes and willed his breath to slow and his body to relax.</p><p>His arms were wrapped around his bare torso in a vice-like grip and Atsumu focused on slowly stretching out his fingers and wrists before dropping his arms completely and rolling his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly expecting the gasp of pain that escaped his mouth unbidden when the bathrobe rubbed against his now-free sternum though.</p><p>Sakusa pulled back slightly as they both snapped their heads down in stark confusion. The cause of the whimper wasn’t really something that <em>should </em>have caused Atsumu to start laughing, but the sheer ridiculousness of the sight and the emotional hang-over of the panic attack itself set in and he just couldn’t stop the pitiful, half-hiccuped giggles from bubbling out of his throat.</p><p>“And…I’ve lost you again,” Sakusa sighed and dropped his forehead back to Atsumu’s. A relieved and almost delirious smile was plastered on his face though and his own breathy laughs huffed out in clouds of condensation. “You’re naked and freezing and we should go inside and get that mess cleaned up.”</p><p>“‘M in my boxers an’a robe. That’s not naked,” Atsumu protested weakly as Omi threaded their hands together and dragged them both back into the warmth of the hotel room. “‘An it’s not like I’m bleedin’ or anythin’,” Atsumu mumbled into his chest as he poked at the raised, irritated stripes of skin that was the result of his nails scrabbling over his heart during the panic attack. In response, Sakusa smacked Atsumu’s hand down and forcibly sat him onto the edge of one of the beds. He shot Atsumu a dubious glare as he went to flip on the bedside lamp and rescue his poor blanket from the dirt and grime of the balcony.</p><p>—</p><p>Ten minutes later, the blanket was neatly folded on the hotel desk and forgotten about as Sakusa finished dabbing antibacterial cream over the worst of Atsumu’s scratches and lotion on the mildest. He had forced Atsumu to completely take off the robe so “nothing gets in the way or contaminated.”Atsumu, left only in his boxers, pointedly stared at a speck in the wallpaper and ignored the flush that covered him from collarbones to ear-tips. The pair had seen far more of each other in the locker rooms, but this moment right here was nothing like the quick change that happened after post-practice showers.</p><p>With a few more deft touches, Sakusa declared he was finished and rocked back onto his heels. “Does anything else hurt?” Atsumu dragged his eyes away from the speck and to the man seated in front of him with a tired attempt at a smile.</p><p>“Not really, but I can already tell I’m gonna be sore as <em>fuck </em>tomorrow,” Atsumu whined, already feeling how tender and raw his body felt. “I’m gonna make us lose the game tomorrow ‘cause of all this and then I’m gonna have to go become a hermit in the woods.” It was partially meant as a joke, but as the woods left his mouth, Atsumu suddenly felt very vulnerable and simultaneously far too big and far too small.</p><p>What if they actually did lose the coming match? This was a tournament deciding game, and Atsumu couldn’t manage to keep his shit together for just one night and because of that he was going to bring his entire team down with him.</p><p>“Hey,” Sakusa accompanied the soft expression with a gentle press of fingers to Atsumu’s jaw. Feeling incredibly young, Atsumu refocused his tear-bleary eyes on Sakusa’s face and did his best to not let his bottom lip stick out in a pout. “We won’t know the outcome of the match, until it happens, right?”</p><p>There was a sniffle. “Yeah.”</p><p>“As long as you play your best tomorrow, and everybody else on the team does their best, as we both know they will, the rest is out of our immediate control. Okay?” Atsumu sniffled again and nodded into Sakusa’s hand. “As for the muscle-aches, I might have something that can help with that.”</p><p>All too quickly, Sakusa withdrew his hand, crossed the length of the room, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Atsumu with the faintest sensation of whiplash. There was the distinct sound of rustling, then a zipper being opened and closed again, and then Sakusa reappeared with a small spray-bottle in one hand and a pair of Atsumu’s sweats in the other.</p><p>“I would have grabbed you a shirt too, but…uh, well massages tend to work best without them.” Sakusa cleared his throat lightly as a dusting of pink settled on the points of his cheekbones. Atsumu weakly smiled—a sad parody of his usual shit-eating grin—at the blush.</p><p>“Where d’ya learn to give <em>massages</em>, Omi-omi?” Atsumu couldn’t help but ask while he pulled on the sweatpants, the teasing note in his voice still far too flat from his normal.</p><p>“I had a friend in university that took a massage therapy course. She helped me through a few of my own anxiety attacks and taught me some basics. Are you okay with lavender?” Atsumu stared dumbly at Sakusa for a moment, taking far too long to process what had come out of his mouth and the bottle he was wiggling in his hand. “It’s a lavender spray. Are you ok if I put it on the bed? It’ll be relaxing.”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry. That’s fine.” Atsumu chuckled lightly and rubbed at his burning eyes. Sakusa nodded and began to methodically spray the bottled mixture onto the pillows and down the sheets of his own bed. As the smell of lavender filled the room, Atsumu became more and more aware of just how exhausted and strung-out he felt. A glance at the clock warned that it was nearing 4am, and Atsumu was well and truly beginning to feel it.</p><p>“Come lay down on your stomach.” Sakusa instructed as he recapped the bottle and went to put it back in the bathroom. Not one to argue at a time like this, Atsumu rubbed his eyes again and settled himself partially under the blankets—wriggling around until he was fully comfortable and the tender skin on his chest wasn’t being pulled in any painful ways. Atsumu sank into the pillows, breathing lavender deep into his lungs, trying to ignore the hint of anxiety that was already starting to thrum under his skin again.</p><p>After a moment, he heard Sakusa exit the bathroom and dim the light to a barely-there glow.</p><p>“Comfy?” Atsumu simply grunted in response. His eyes immediately opened when he felt the opposite side of the mattress dip under Sakusa’s weight, though. “Do you mind if I uh…” Sakusa vaguely motioned towards Atsumu’s back end as another blush erupted onto his cheeks. Atsumu couldn’t laugh this time as he felt his own face grow hot at what Sakusa was asking to do.</p><p>“Ya can do anyth’n ya wan’t’me, Omi-omi,” Atsumu mumbled with a grin, despite the heat on his face and his embarrassed retreat back into his pillow.</p><p>“Shut up, Miya. God.” Sakusa responded with a soft grumble that held none of its normal heat. There was a second of hesitation before the bed dipped one final time, and Atsumu felt Sakusa’s weight settle around his hips as the lanky spiker straddled his ass. Atsumu idly noted that this was probably going to be yet another moment that he would cringe over for the rest of his life, but then he felt Sakusa’s hands caress over his back and Atsumu suddenly couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.</p><p>“Is this okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, Kiyoomi. Thanks.” The words left Atsumu’s mouth with a sigh as he was quickly lost to the gentle press of hands and the familiar smell of lavender.</p><p>—</p><p>Atsumu briefly surfaced towards consciousness sometime around sunrise. Soft morning light spilled into the room, but Atsumu could only see a wide expanse of heather gray. Still half-asleep, it took him a long moment to comprehend why.</p><p>He was tucked into Sakusa’s chest, with the other man’s chin resting on top of Atsumu’s head. Sakusa’s sleep-heavy breaths ruffled over bleached strands of hair like calm beach waves moving in and and out from the shore. One of Sakusa’s arms was slung across Atsumu’s hip and their legs were tangled together under the mess of blankets.</p><p>A soft smile pulled at Atsumu’s mouth as the comforting weight of Sakusa engulfed Atsumu’s whole being. In this embrace, there had been no nightmares or panic attacks. There was no anxiety of any kind waiting under Atsumu’s skin, just the feeling of warmth and complete safety. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but as Atsumu fell back asleep he distantly hoped that this would become one of his favorite and more frequent coping strategies.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>They’re in love your honor</p><p>I wrote the majority of this during a really bad anxiety rut, 2 days after breaking up with my girlfriend, and while waiting to hear if I got into my top grad program (lol I didn’t) and I might have projected some of that onto Sakuatsu since they’re my comfort ship, so oops. </p><p>Anywho, thanks for reading!</p><p>Find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/m_slo23">twt</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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